


I Wanted So Much More For You

by KiwiBerry



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: AU where Marco is alive, M/M, Marco joins the Military Police and Jean is his Survery Corps boyfriend, but with a twist
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-11
Updated: 2014-02-11
Packaged: 2018-01-11 22:17:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1178615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KiwiBerry/pseuds/KiwiBerry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU in which Marco is alive and joins the Military Police but worries constantly about his Survey Corps boyfriend, Jean.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Wanted So Much More For You

Marco watched the clouds sail by the open courtyard, disappearing behind the edge of the veranda as the sun poured down across his face, a light breeze kissing his face tenderly.  He let out a small sigh that mingled with the warm air as he closed his eyes a moment to let the world around him sink in and breathe.  

“Checkmate.”

He opened his eyes to look down at the chessboard in front of him, a dazzling ivory chess piece resting quietly on his side of the board, staring up at him with its intricate edges and curves.  He smiled, putting his hands up in surrender.

“You win again, Your Majesty,” he laughed, pushing his chair back to stand up and brush off his uniform.  

“I always win,” the King reminded, popping another piece of fruit into his mouth, “It worries me.  If you, a member of the Military Police that protects us, can’t even beat me at a game of chess, how am I supposed to assure the people that they’re safe when their protectors can’t even win at a simple game of strategy.”

Marco just smiled watching a robin land on one of the stone fountain’s nearby, “Well, it’s a good thing I’m not in charge then, sir.  I’m sure one of the commanding officers would be able to provide a more challenging game if you asked them.”

The King grunted in reply and took a long sip from the glass of wine at his elbow. A moment of silence passed between the two before being interrupted by Marco’s commanding officer.  He stood in the doorway to the veranda, hands folded neatly behind his back as he waited for the King to allow him to speak. Marco stood a little straighter as his met his commander’s gaze.

“You may speak,” the King drawled, looking anywhere but at the commander.

“Your Highness, I’m here to inform you of the return of the Survey Corps from their latest mission.”

Marco’s face fell at the commander's words and he felt his breath catch in his throat.

“Were there many casualties?” the King asked easily, showing no distress over the number of soldiers possibly lost.

“Not as many as last time,” the commander replied, his voice wavering slightly, “but there were still substantial losses, sir.”

The King grunted before leaning back into his chair, “Very well.  Take a squad of men and meet them at the gate of Wall Rose to help with the wounded, I suppose.  Have anyone with information report to the barracks within Wall Sina immediately.  And no dilly dallying!"

Marco watched the King as he stood then, and disappeared back inside the palace, the chess board, glass, and bowl left untouched.  He stood a moment afterward, worry creasing his brow, before having his commanding officer beckon him over.

“You’re coming with me,” he ordered, his eyes dark and distant, “Assemble a squad of four or five and I’ll meet you at the gate in about twenty minutes.”

Marco nodded in understanding before disappearing as well.

Outside Wall Rose  Marco took in the procession of bruised and battered soldiers, his eyes darting back and forth as he searched through the men and women that slowly marched past him, their eyes brimming with tears of pain and loss, expressions blank and scared and exhausted.  But amidst it all,  the only thing Marco could register in his mind was the blood on everything, everyone, and weaving through all the people he couldn’t help but notice that someone was missing-

“Marco…”

Marco halted in his steps, turning quickly to find a hooded Jean, his shoulders heavy and eyes cast downward.  He took a step toward Marco and faltered slightly before regaining himself. Marco met him halfway with open arms.  

“Jean,” Was all Marco could say as he supported the other, eyes searching his face frantically, “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

Jean ignored him and tried to push away, but it was half-hearted.  Marco tried not to look saddened by the action but Jean could always read him better than anyone.

“Shit, Marco,” Jean bit out, removing his hood carefully and revealing the small trail of blood that traveled from his temple to his jaw, “Don’t look at me like that, alright?  I’m fine.  I just-”

Marco silenced him with a warm and gentle hand against his cheek, “You’re bleeding.”

Jean took a moment to savor the others warm skin against his cool face before sighing and pushing the hand away, “It’s not my blood, okay?”

Marco nodded but his face said he didn’t believe him, so Jean took his sleeve and scrubbed above his temple.  When he was finished not a single scratch or cut was to be seen.

“See?” he said, shaking out his bloody sleeve, “Not mine.”

Marco took a step closer then, rubbing a hand through the other’s hair before tugging lightly on Jean’s cape with his free hand.  Jean took the hint and leaned into Marco, who wrapped his arms around the other’s weary frame and held him tight.  

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Marco sighed into the other’s hair, leaving a small, inconspicuous kiss atop his head, “I was worried.”

“Yeah, well,” Jean sighed, leaning into Marco’s chest and burying his face into the crook of his neck, “We lost so many, Marco.  We couldn’t-”

“Shh,” Marco comforted, placing a steady hand at the nape of Jean’s neck, “You don’t have to talk about it.”

“But you weren’t there,” Jean insisted, his voice barely a whisper, “They came so fast. It was like they were waiting.  Like they knew-”

“ _Jean_ ,” Marco said, and the word sent shivers down Jean’s spine. 

“You’ll get blood on your uniform,” he eventually replied, knowing better than to ignore the warning in Marco’s voice, “Again.”

“I know,” Marco smiled, letting Jean pull away but still remain within arm’s reach.  They watched one of the supply wagons roll past, empty save for two injured corps members, and Jean looked up to Marco and then the ground, scuffing his boot in the dirt distractedly.  His 3D maneuver gear swung from his hips and Marco noticed he still had one hand gripping the hilt of his blade.  He reached down and placed his own hand over Jean’s gently, so as not to startle him, and Jean let him take it when he’d realized what he’d been doing, letting out a small string of curses under his breath.

“Let’s go home, yeah?” Marco asked with a smile, squeezing the other’s hand a little too hard, and Jean couldn’t help but smile back and agree. 

Later that night, Marco and Jean lay side by side in bed, bodies weary but minds wide awake. The mirrored each other, both on their sides and turned inward, as if afraid of looking away from each other. Marco opened his eyes, shifting slightly so he met Jean at eye level, and broke the silence that lingered in the air.

“Why?”

Jean opened one closed eye and turned onto his back with a grunt, “Why what?”

“Why’d you join the Survey Corps?”

Jean rubbed at his face and sighed, “Was I not allowed to?”

Marco smiled, “I mean, when I first met you you wanted to join the Military Police.  So, why?”

The room was quiet for a moment as Jean gathered his thoughts, and Marco waited patiently, keeping his breathing low and even.  

“I have a sister,” Jean said, eyes shifting toward Marco before returning to the ceiling, “Had a sister, actually.  She died about two years back.  It was just me and her and our mom before that.  Our dad bailed on us, and it’d been the three of us for as long as I can remember.   My mom was a fighter though, one hell of a women if you ask me.”

“I bet,” Marco interrupted, eyes never leaving Jean who smiled before allowing his face to fall back into a pensive expression.

Jean spoke quietly then, bringing his hands up to rest atop his stomach, “Anyway, about five years ago my sis got sick.  Awful thing that left her in bed for weeks.  But she smiled through it all, always telling me not to worry.  Me.  Not to worry.  I should have been the one telling her that, ya know?”

Marco’s eyes fell down onto the sheets, one hand gripping the pillow underneath his head that much tighter, “And?”

“And she died not too long after,” Jean replied flatly, letting his eyes drift close a moment, “A week later I kissed my mom goodbye and met you and everyone else on the first day of training.  I didn’t want to join the Military Police, not really, but...but I promised my sister something when she died.  You know what I promised her?  I promised her I would keep myself safe.  That I would keep our mom safe.  But she was mostly worried about me.  She said I was reckless.”  

Marco heard Jean laugh bitterly before falling silent once more.  He turned on his side then, and met Marco’s gaze.

“I was going to join the Military Police,” Jean said, eyes searching Marco’s for something he couldn’t quite find, “The safest place is inside Wall Maria so what better corps to join than the Military Police, right?  Well, I thought so.  Until I found something worth protecting outside of that wall..."

Marco blinked once, twice, biting back the few small tears that threatened to slide down his cheek, “Jean-”

“I don’t think she’d be upset with me,” Jean continued, not meeting the other's gaze, “She always said I was terrible at making friends and that I should cherish anyone who was willing to give me the time of day.”

Marco stared at Jean a moment, thinking of something he could say; the right thing to say. Jean had never told him this story--had never been so open with him before--so Marco was at a loss for words. Luckily, Jean spoke for him.

“What about you?” he asked, turning back onto his side, one hand reaching out to run a hand through Marco’s hair before pulling it back to rest against the sheets, “Why the Military Police?”

Marco paused, savoring Jean’s caress before speaking, “It’s just something that happened, I guess.  I was raised by my Grandmother since I was little.  She taught me everything I know.  I guess...I guess I didn’t want her to have to go through the pain of receiving my emblem if I died.  I couldn’t do that to her.  I don’t want people to be sad when I die. I know one day something, a Titan maybe, will get the best of me but until then I want to prolong something like that as long as possible. That way I can spend a long time with those I care about and maybe, just maybe, they won’t be so sad when I do...move on.  Because at least I was around for a while.  So, I guess I joined because it was the safest.  Kinda like you.”

Jean’s smile fell a moment, before he reached out a hand and tugged Marco close.  Marco let him and quickly wrapped himself around Jean, who buried his head into Marco’s chest.  Marco could feel Jean’s breath against his skin, warm and unsteady.  

“Jean?” Marco asked when Jean didn’t look at him, just pulled himself closer into Marco, “Jean, what’s wrong?”

Jean didn’t reply, just wrapped his arms tighter around Marco and steadied his breathing before pulling back enough to mutter into Marco’s skin, “I don’t want to lose you.”

Marco’s breath caught in his throat a moment, before he pulled Jean even closer, murmuring small reassurances to him, “Jean, I will never leave you.  Ever.  You won’t lose me...but I am scared I might lose you.”

Jean pulled back at the other’s confession, and Marco could see the light go out in his eyes, “I’m not going anywhere Marco, understand?  I’ll always come back to you.  That’s a promise.”

Marco placed a hand tenderly on Jean’s cheek and pulled him close for a quick kiss, their lips sliding together perfectly, “I know, Jean.  I know.”

Jean nodded in reply before burrowing back into Marco who began to hum a quiet song.  It was a lullaby his Grandmother used to sing to him before bed, one about a young man who had to go far away but promised that, one day, he would return to his beloved.  In the song, the young man died alone on a mountain, his loves name ghosting across his lips, and he never got to keep his promise to her.  When Marco finished the song he sighed, nestling himself in the sheets and placing a small kiss onto a sleeping Jean’s temple, hoping their song had a happier ending.

\--------

Jean awoke with a start, one hand already under his pillow to grab the knife he stowed there ever since the incident with Annie.  After knowing one of his friends had turned on him, he’d found himself less likely to trust people and more likely to stab first and ask questions later.  When he realized he was alone, he sat himself upright and held his head in his hands.  The dream was still vivid in his mind and he felt like he could reach beside himself and find a sleeping Marco snoring lightly through the night.  But he couldn’t, no matter how much he would have liked to, and the reminder hurt more than any physical pain he’d ever endured.  He sat quietly, glancing around the dark, empty room,  before leaning against his headboard, feeling his eyes sting with tears he wouldn’t allow himself to cry.  At least not anymore. 

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so I hope you all enjoyed! I took precious college/homework time to write this thingy so I hope it was worth it! I might be continuing this into a multichap fic if there's enough demand so leave your thoughts in the comments. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! :)


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